Because, simply, computers despise me. They always have, they always will. As some sort of really nasty and insane stab at irony, some time during the whole beginning of creation as we know it there was some crazy mix up that by cruel twist of fate, sentenced me to be forever spited by anything with a microchip. It's not just computers either -- everything from a DVD player to a rotating tie rack breaks off all logical operation the moment I touch it. Nothing ever works the way its supposed to for me, which makes everything take ten point four times longer than necessary, or just causes everything to generally go stark-raving mad. It's especially irritating considering I live a majority of my life in my computer chair in the basement.

It makes for a very one-sided relationship, and usually results in flared conflict, hurt feelings, bitter grudges, and not to mention either one or both parties, organic and electronic, coming away from the tangle with several more battle scars and horrific flesh wounds. More often than not, a fellow bystander gets caught up in the fray and has to intervene to deter further possible bloodshed and disconnected wires -- sometimes serving as the only things standing in the way between me and the inevitable destruction of our G4 Macintosh.

And that is only with the healthy relationships I have with most computers, namely the all-powerful Macintosh -- you force me onto a bloody god forsaken PC, and all hell just breaks loose. Do not get me started on the countless horrific encounters with my old high school's IBMs.

And so, it seemed only justified to theme my computing world around my computing relations. They hate me, I hate them. It's a twisted sort of liaison and we're currently seeking counseling. For now, however, I always keep a dozen heavily armed computer technicians by my side when ever I go down to check my email.